Leticia turned back to him. “Very well. But only one. A second dance, and someone will draw the wrong conclusion.”
“And we mustn’t have that,” he replied evenly, offering his arm.
They stepped onto the floor together, matched only by height and timing.
Leticia had danced with a dozen partners in a dozen ballrooms, but this felt different. It was as if she’d stepped into a perfectly rehearsed play she’d never auditioned for. His touch was assured, his silence deliberate, and her pulse had the audacity to skip, just once. The warmth of his palm steadied hers, and against her will, her chest tightened, a treacherous thrill chasing through her ribs.
Ash didn’t fill the silence with compliments or charm. He simply danced, precisely, and well.
“Are you always so serious?” she asked during a turn.
“Only when I’m expected to be entertaining,” he said.
She nearly laughed.
When the reel ended, Ash bowed. “Thank you, my lady. I shall endeavor to limit my appearances to a single line on future dance cards.”
“That would be safest,” she said lightly.
They parted with a nod. Ash disappeared into the crowd, and Leticia turned to find her cousin threading her way toward her, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.
“Who was that?” Felicity whispered, tugging her aside in a swirl of silk and whispered scandal.
“A baron, apparently,” Leticia murmured. “New to town. Dances well. Understands sarcasm.”
Felicity’s eyes sparkled. “He looked at you like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.”
Leticia handed over the slightly crumpled dance card. “He looked at me like I’d rewritten it. Honestly, three blank spaces? You mustn’t be so choosy.”
“I was saving one for Mr. Denby,” Felicity said shyly. “Though he tried to hand me Aunt Margaret’s lace cap, thinking it was mine. I didn’t have the heart to correct him.”
Leticia smiled despite herself. “Perhaps you’ll marry for mercy, and I’ll marry for silence. That would suit us both.”
They turned toward their aunt, who was waving her fan with quiet authority at the card table.
And somewhere across the room, Ash’s gaze found Leticia again, just once, with something unreadable behind it, cool and intent, as if testing her mettle rather than admiring her gown.
*
That evening, whenLeticia returned to Eastbury Manor, her aunt’shome, she sat at her dressing table, pins in her lap and her hair half undone, while her cousin perched cross-legged on the edge of the bed, still in her evening gown and clearly unwilling to surrender the night.
“I’m only saying,” Felicity insisted, “he looked at you like he meant something by it.”
Leticia met her gaze in the mirror. “He looked at me like he was trying to decide whether I was the problem or the solution.”
“That’s worse,” Felicity said, appalled. “He’s a baron. He’s supposed to be charming.”
“He was polite,” Leticia replied, tugging another pin loose. “And he danced with precision, which is more than can be said for Mr. Denby, who nearly turned a country reel into an act of war.”
“That’s unfair,” Felicity protested. “He means well.”
“Most missteps in life begin with good intentions and poor rhythm.”
Felicity laughed, flopping backward across the coverlet, skirts and ribbons spilling around her like an overturned bouquet. “Do you think he’ll call on you?”
Leticia lifted a brow. “We haven’t even been introduced.”
“Doesn’t seem to have stopped him.”
